


Following the Map that Leads to You

by celestialsphere



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - The Song of Achilles Fusion, Captain America: The First Avenger, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, bucky as patroclus, steve as achilles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25875358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialsphere/pseuds/celestialsphere
Summary: Legend has it that humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves, yearning to become whole again.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	Following the Map that Leads to You

**Author's Note:**

> just finished reading the song of achilles and it was so bittersweet. theyre SOULMATEs. and they reminded me so much of steve and bucky so i , wrote this,,, alternate title: 34958438 times Patroclus found Achilles + 1 time it was the other way round

Legend has it that humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves, yearning to become whole again. Seeing how miserable the humans were, Hera took pity on them and gave them each the names of their other half, inked in gold on various parts of their bodies. This is the story of how a pair of star-crossed lovers find their ways back to each other only to lose each other again and again. 

-

"The judges of the Underworld have decided your fate, Patroclus, son of Menoetius. For having died bravely in battle, you shall go to the Elysian Fields, where you will be honoured as a hero and live for eternity in peace."

"My Lords, may I speak freely?" Patroclus bowed his head respectfully. It would not do to anger the three judges of the Underworld who would decide the journey his soul would embark on. 

"Speak your mind, child." Minos waved his hand dismissively. 

"I seek the soul of my lover, without whom I cannot be truly at peace. He makes me whole." Patroclus stated. 

"I presume you mean Achilles? He, for his hubris caused the deaths of too many, will be reincarnated as a mortal, in hopes that he will redeem himself in his next life. The Gods will not allow him to be sent to Tarturus. Now, please proceed to your right. An escort will see you to Elysium–"

"Wait, I would like to request to be reincarnated too, for the chance to be with Achilles." 

Minos sighed. He hated dealing with starcrossed lovers for god's sake, what a pain!

Patroclus stood on the raised podium feeling awfully nervous. It was hard not to be, with the intense stares of the judges trained on him. He chewed his bottom lip, fidgeting anxiously, as the judges whispered amongst themselves. Occasionally, one of them would raise a pale hand and gesture wildly in his direction. Patroclus felt as if the seconds were crawling by, every moment he stood on the podium dragging by as though it was an eternity. How does time even exist in the Underworld? He wondered idly to himself.

"Ahem," Minos cleared his throat, pulling Patroclus out of his thoughts. "The judges will allow your soul to be reincarnated. But Achilles will not remember you. You shall retain your memories, so you will know when you meet him, but he would not know you. This is the condition for your request. May the Fates be kind to you both, foolish child." 

And with a wave of Midas' hand, everything went black as Patroclus' soul was sent to be prepared for his next life. 

-

The first few lives were disasters. In the first ten or so lives, Patroclus did not manage to find Achilles before his Soul Ink turned from gold to black, the dark ink stark in contrast upon his pale forearm. It was excruciating, that moment the gleaming golden Ink darkened, as if someone held a red hot branding iron to his skin, it scorched, it burned, the smell of burning flesh wafting up his nose. The very first time it happened, Patroclus nearly passed out. The second time was as bad as the first. So was the third, the fourth, the fifth… 

By the fortieth or fiftieth life, Patroclus had long since lost count of the number of different names marked on his forearm. Patroclus cursed his luck. Couldn't the Fates have made this easier? Where would he even start looking for Achilles? It was like looking for a needle in a haystack for gods' sake. At least let them both be born in the same region! 

The first time Patroclus finally caught sight of Achilles was at least a few thousand years later, when he was born Robert and Achilles was William. Patroclus had the luck to be born to a relatively wealthy family of merchants. When he was finally of age, he got a job as the pageboy of the noble Mortmain family, waiting on the Lord and Lady of the household. He learnt to wield a weapon and hunt, though his ability to wield a weapon was still quite frankly, terrible. Some things just don't change. Gaining the favour of the Lady, he was promoted to squire at age 14 despite his subpar sword wielding skills. 

Achilles was the son of a visiting Lord, Lord Beaumont, a noble family from the South. The first time Patroclus laid eyes upon Achilles, he did a double take. Achilles looked as handsome as he remembered, golden blonde hair glittering under the sunlight filtering through the window like finely spun gold threads. Patroclus couldn't help but reach out.

Achilles, William, jerked his arm back and Patroclus hastily stepped back. He clearly hadn't thought this through. He'd been so fixated with finding Achilles that he had not thought about what he'd say. 

"You! You're the witch that cursed me!" Achilles exclaimed, backing away from Patroclus. 

"What? No! What are you talking about?" Patroclus was confused.

"Look, I don't know why you cursed me to have those dreams but I haven't gotten a single good night's sleep in months! Whatever you're planning, Witch, you better think again." Achilles snarled. 

Patroclus was taken aback. Achilles had been dreaming of them? This made things simpler to explain. But before Patroclus could say another word, a strong vice-like grip curled around his arm, jerking him back. 

"We come in search of the Witch who cursed my son. Now that he is found he shall be burnt at the stake. There shall not be mercy for the spawn of the devil!" A stern looking older gentleman, Lord Beaumont announced. 

"Wait, I …" Patroclus stammered.

"Silence Witch! Or we will slit your tongue from your throat!" Lord Beaumont threatened. 

"I treated you like my own son and this is how you repay me? Practicing black magic in my house? Lord Beaumont I give you permission to do with the devil spawn as you see fit." Lord Mortmain shook his head disappointedly. 

Lord Beaumont huffed before dragging Patroclus by the scruff of his collar to the town square, where a stake was to be prepared for the execution of a witch. 

-

"Well that was unfortunate," a voice commented, as Patroclus opened his eyes, the images of flames surrounding him still etched in his brain. 

"Back again so soon child?" Minos shook his head. "What did you ever do to suffer so much at the hands of the Fates? Maybe you should give up. The option of Elysium is still open to you."

"Never," Patroclus gritted his teeth. "I won't rest until we are together." 

"I wonder if you're brave or foolish." Minos sighed. "Off you go then child, the next life is waiting. I hope we won't see you back so soon this time." 

And once again, with a wave of his hand, Minos sent Patroclus off. 

-

By the next few hundred lives or so, Patroclus was really starting to think they were cursed by the Fates, or perhaps the gods were using them for entertainment. He went to the frontlines of wars from the Crusades to the Spanish conquests, hoping to find Achilles, who was a warrior in every lifetime. Patroclus had really seen enough of wars for the rest of eternity but he persisted, eventually finding Achilles, probably commanding an army somewhere. War, of course, came with its losses. Almost every time he found Achilles in war, he would eventually end up dead in a terrible case of Déjà vu. The closest he ever got to Achilles, Achilles ended up knelt over Patroclus' limp and pale body, crying as Patroclus bled out from a chest wound. Patroclus was tired, tired of dying, tired of losing his lover over and over again. 

"By the gods, if anyone is listening, please take pity on us. I just want to return to my lover's side." Patroclus sobbed one night, desperation growing more and more as the centuries passed. 

It was silent in the room, if any of the gods were listening, they gave no indication. Patroclus blew out the candle on his nightstand, a sinking feeling in his chest as the tears flowed endlessly down his face. When will this end? Will it ever end? Patroclus drifted off into a fitful sleep, dreaming of his lost love.

-

The first time Bucky met Steve was on the elementary school playground, and for the first time, Patroclus was taller, faster, stronger than Achilles. Steve was a skinny runt of a guy, but no less beautiful or brave than Achilles was and Patroclus – Bucky – loved him for that. The moment he laid eyes upon the small figure lying in the sand surrounded by four older kids, with his teeth gritted and hands clenched into fists, Bucky knew. He could feel his Soul Ink tingling, almost vibrating, as if it can't wait to be reunited with its other half. 

For the first time, their roles were reversed, Bucky scaring away the bullies, and Steve huffing at him, insistent that he was in control of the situation. 

"Hi! I'm James but everyone calls me Bucky!" Bucky stuck out his chubby 6 year old hand towards Steve.

"I'm Steve. And I had them on the ropes, didn't need you to step in. I can handle myself." Steve stood up and dusted off his pants, stubbornly rejecting Bucky's help to get up. 

"Sure pal," Bucky chuckled, earning himself a glare from Steve. 

Of course, Bucky was suspicious about their sudden role reversal. Achilles, the best warrior of ancient times, reincarnated as a sickly boy, 90 pounds soaking wet, while Patroclus was the fitter one? It was unthinkable to him. Not everything had changed, however. Steve was blonde, like Achilles and all his other reincarnations were, golden blonde hair finely spun, as soft as silk. Steve was still the bravest person he'd ever met, a heart too big for his scrawny frame, it was endearing. Bucky still loved him, with all his heart, even with his smaller frame, and endless list of health issues. 

With the sudden role reversal also came the worry. Bucky knew Steve had the ability to pick fights anywhere and everywhere, and he couldn't help but worry. What if Bucky was too late? Terrified of finding Steve slumped over in an alleyway, unbreathing and pale, Bucky swore to protect Steve with his life. Steve, the little spitfire, the stubborn bastard, _his_ little spitfire, _his_ stubborn bastard. Gods, Bucky loved him. 

Steve never spoke about the dreams. Bucky was sure he had them. Sometimes Steve would look at him weirdly, as if Bucky had sprouted a new head, or a third eye. They never talked about it, not about the dreams, and definitely not about their Soul Inks, but once, Bucky stumbled across Steve's open sketchbook on the table. A graphite sketch of Patroclus when he was a young boy, a full head of unruly curls and a face too small for his nose, with Achilles' name on his forearm. 

Everything came to a head when Bucky was drafted to war. No longer able to stay by Steve's side to protect him. And Steve, oh, Steve, how he insisted on enlisting to join the war effort despite Bucky's countless and relentless dissuasion. No amount of it could stop Steve from attempting to enlist. Bucky didn't want to leave Steve behind, but neither did he want to lose Steve to another war, goddamnit! If he could choose, he'd pick the lesser of two evils and leave Steve behind. And if Bucky were to come back to Steve to find Steve married to some dame, at least Steve would be safe and happy. 

But Steve, stubborn as a mule, insisted on enlisting. And that was how Bucky found him, slumped over a trash can in an alleyway, getting the shit beaten out of him by a larger guy. Bucky sighed. Here we go again. Lunging forward, Bucky grabbed the guy's arm just as he was about to go back in for another attack. Hauling him back violently, Bucky dodged the guy's punch. Bucky swung his fist into the guy's face, feeling the satisfying crunch of a broken nose, and sent him scurrying away with a swift kick to his behind. 

"Sometimes, I think you like getting punched." Bucky drawled, walking towards Steve who was dusting himself off. 

"I had 'im on the ropes," Steve groaned. 

Bucky sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. He could only pray that Steve would stay out of trouble while he was gone. Knowing Steve, that wasn't going to happen. Shaking that thought out of his head, Bucky forced a grin, slinging his arm around Steve's shoulders as he led Steve out of the alleyway. 

-

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back." 

"How can I? You're takin' all the stupid with you." 

-

The next time Bucky saw Steve was in a HYDRA bunker. Bucky was dying, he could feel it. After dying thousands of times, you get used to the feeling. He was dehydrated and delirious from the time in captivity, and the experiments they conducted on him. A human lab rat. When Steve stepped through the doorway calling his name and looking like a bodybuilder, Bucky was so certain he'd dreamt the whole thing up. 

"I thought you were smaller," Bucky rasped, stumbling over his own feet as Steve hauled him up. 

Escaping the HYDRA bunker was a miracle in itself. Bucky was weak with fatigue, barely able to walk, let alone run but even in this situation he couldn't help but admire Steve. Steve was beautiful. Under the dim lighting in the bunker, Bucky could vaguely make out the broad chest and shoulders of Steve. Steve had always been beautiful, but now he looked more like the brave warrior he was, in a body big enough to contain his heart. 

-

Patroclus would follow Achilles anywhere. Bucky would follow Steve anywhere. It was a given. When Steve asked Bucky to join him in taking down the Red Skull on board a train bound for the alps, Bucky said yes. He would follow Steve to the depths of hell and back. This was nothing compared to what he was willing to do for Steve. 

A violent skirmish left Bucky clinging desperately onto the side of the train travelling through the alps, with nothing but a ravine beneath him. Oh gods, not again, Bucky swore. Patroclus dying in war again? Gods, the Fates really love playing with them.

"Grab my hand!" Steve yelled, reaching his hand out as far as he could. 

Bucky reached back, but it was too late. The metal handhold Bucky was holding onto finally gave way under his weight. Bucky screamed. He could feel tears welling up. He failed again. When can he truly be with his soulmate? 

"Ugh," Bucky grunted as he hit the hard rocks on the ravine. Everything hurt. He was cold. He couldn't move. Bucky closed his eyes and the world went black.

-

For as long as Steve could remember, he had weird dreams. They were recurring, and they always featured a blonde and a brunette. The brunette bore a striking resemblance to Bucky, only smaller and skinnier. The blonde was someone important as far as Steve could tell. He led armies in war, and people addressed him politely. 

Of course, Steve wasn't completely dense. He knew the dreams had something to do with his Soul Ink. His soulmate. Bucky. Steve dreaming of a blonde and brunette pair who were soulmates and bore striking resemblances to Bucky and himself? It was too much of a coincidence. Steve was sure Bucky was his soulmate. But Bucky had never once shown any sign of recognising Steve as his soulmate. Maybe Bucky's Soul Ink was not Steve's name but someone else. Unrequited soulmates were rare, though not unheard of but having a soulmate of the same sex, that was a taboo. It was something whispered about in alleyways, hidden away from the rest of the world, something to be ashamed of. Maybe that's why Bucky had never asked Steve about his Soul Ink. Steve soon forgot about his Soul Ink after it was erased by the serum, a side effect Erskine said, and with the war to be fought. And then it didn't matter at all after Bucky fell from the train. 

After crashing the plane in the Arctic, Steve went to sleep thinking he would wake up by Bucky's side, his soulmate. But he never predicted he would wake up 70 years in the future. 

The 21st century was a very different time, so much different from Steve's time that Steve could hardly make sense of it. The biggest things that shocked Steve were that there was no more racial segregation and homosexuals could get married. Steve mourned the loss of Bucky, even though his Soul Ink was no longer there on his chest, no sign of his soulmate having ever existed. If Bucky was with him, they would get married, no hesitation on Steve's part. But Bucky was gone, his body never recovered, all his friends were dead and Steve was alone. Lonely. 

-

"Bucky?" Steve breathed out. 

"Who the hell is Bucky?" Storm grey eyes meeting blue, brown wavy locks framing his face messily. 

Before Steve could get over his shock, Bucky had disappeared in a puff of smoke from an explosion. 

Bucky was alive.

-

"I'm with you til the end of the line." 

The phrase kept ringing in Bucky's head. Who is Steve? How does Bucky know him? Who's Bucky? 

"I'm Bucky." he reminded himself. "I'm James Buchanan Barnes. Steve's my friend." 

Bucky was hiding out in a safehouse in Bucharest. He had to move soon, they would be coming to find him. It's not safe to stay. They'll put him back in the chair. Bucky would rather die than go back. 

The past few nights, Bucky's sleep had been plagued by dreams – nightmares. He dreamt of a tall blonde man in gold-decorated armour. Not Steve. Steve was more muscular. He dreamt of a skinny brunette who could barely fight. Who? Who are these people? 

Achilles. Patroclus. The names floated to the forefront of his brain. Achilles, Steve. Patroclus? Bucky? Bucky's head was pounding. Throbbing. It hurt. Sitting on the thin mattress he was using as a bed, Bucky clutched his head in agony. Achilles and Patroclus? Soulmates? Does that mean Steve and Bucky were soulmates? Ugh. Time to take a walk. Being cooped up was starting to make him go insane. 

Bucky returned to his apartment to find Steve looking through his notebook. What a little shit. Bucky shook his head. The movement must have alerted Steve to his presence. 

Steve turned around slowly. 

"You know me?"

"You're Steve. You're my soulmate." 

**Author's Note:**

> the end! hope you enjoyed that! if you did pls kudos and comment !! :D
> 
> unbeta-ed so excuse any errors or just comment them so i'll correct it


End file.
